Este fue un año profuso.
Traducciones libres de los poemas “Fair Italy! Still Shines Thy Sun as Bright” y “La Vida es sueño“, escritos por Mary Shelley en 1833 y publicados recién 1997 y 1969, respectivamente.
Fragmento de la segunda sección del poema “Los tres enemigos” de Christina Rossetti, que traduje para el proyecto .txt y se publicó en su edición de noviembre. Se puede acceder al texto completo haciendo clic en la cita.
Traducción libre del hermoso poema de Christina Rossetti “¿Quién me librará?”, cuyo título se inspira en un pasaje bíblico (Romanos 7:24-25). Datado en 1864, se publicó originalmente en la revista Argosy (en febrero de 1866) y luego en el libro Goblin Market, The Prince’s Progress, and Other Poems (1875).
La imagen que acompaña el texto es una reproducción de un cuadro de 1891 del pintor simbolista belga Fernand Khnopff, nombrado, a partir de un verso del poema I lock my door upon myself.
We’re all—especially those of us who are educated and have read a lot and have watched TV critically—in a very self-conscious and sort of worldly and sophisticated time, but also a time when we seem terribly afraid of other people’s reactions to us and very desperate to control how people interpret us. Everyone is extremely conscious of manipulating how they come off in the media; they want to structure what they say so that the reader or audience will interpret it in the way that is most favorable to them. What’s interesting to me is that this isn’t all that new. This was the project of the Sophists in Athens, and this is what Socrates and Plato thought was so completely evil. The Sophists had this idea: Forget this idea of what’s true or not—what you want to do is rhetoric; you want to be able to persuade the audience and have the audience think you’re smart and cool. And Socrates and Plato, basically their whole idea is, “Bullshit. There is such a thing as truth, and it’s not all just how to say what you say so that you get a good job or get laid, or whatever it is people think they want”.
No: the emotions will not make us cosmopolitan, any more than the greed for gain could do so. It is only by the cultivation of the habit of intellectual criticism that we shall be able to rise superior to race-prejudices. Goethe —you will not misunderstand what I say— was a German of the Germans. He loved his country— no man more so. Its people were dear to him; and he led them. Yet, when the iron hoof of Napoleon trampled upon vineyard and cornfield, his lips were silent. ‘How can one write songs of hatred without hating?’ he said to Eckermann, ‘and how could I, to whom culture and barbarism are alone of importance, hate a nation which is among the most cultivated of the earth and to which I owe so great a part of my own cultivation?’ This note, sounded in the modern world by Goethe first, will become, I think, the starting point for the cosmopolitanism of the future. Criticism will annihilate race-prejudices, by insisting upon the unity of the human mind in the variety of its forms. If we are tempted to make war upon another nation, we shall remember that we are seeking to destroy an element of our own culture, and possibly its most important element. As long as war is regarded as wicked, it will always have its fascination. When it is looked upon as vulgar, it will cease to be popular. The change will of course be slow, and people will not be conscious of it. They will not say ‘We will not war against France because her prose is perfect,’ but because the prose of France is perfect, they will not hate the land. Intellectual criticism will bind Europe together in bonds far closer than those that can be forged by shopman or sentimentalist. It will give us the peace that springs from understanding.